Dude, I feel like I was just at work . . . I think I'm going to need more time off in between coming to work. Like a day or two. That sounds good—I'm going to get right on that.
The Superbowl is this weekend! Yay! *Wings, pizza, beer, fun . . . really, what's not to like?* Of course, I’ll be going out to Long Island to hang with the peanut and her parents SO I’ll most likely be watching the game and hearing “Puppy! Puppy! Puppy! Puppy!” whilst doing so . . . BUT that’s the price you must pay.
Not too much to report. Working a lot—not sure WHY, as my job is coming to an imminent end BUT there you go . . .
Getting some good resume/portfolio feedback from the places I'm applying to though—exactly what my confidence level (or lack thereof) needs after the past two years. Let’s hope one of these interviews actually turns into a job-o . . . of course, I’m still trying to figure out what exactly I want to do next so I should figure that out before the offers start pouring in. POURING IN, people—I’m a hot commodity, after all.
I obviously have absolutely nothing of importance to say this morning BUT I felt the need to put something up so Cris couldn’t say “I blogged last” anymore . . . if you call a single link a blog . . .
Cheap movement, Cris. Cheap.
January 30, 2007
January 24, 2007
I feel right at home in this stunning monochrome, alone in my way.
I’ve obviously been listening to a lot of Ani Difranco lately.
I’ve come up with a new life plan. It goes as follows:
1. Move to Hawaii
2. Live in small bungalow
3. Work as bartender
4. Spend all free time on beach: swimming, reading, sleeping, etc.
That’s pretty much it.
Why is it that when I start feeling melancholic, I start thinking about the beach and the ocean and space and quiet?
My friend Michelle always told me that I would go through a mini-crisis in my late twenties. That it was typical. So, I’m right on track then, I guess. Good to know.
All I know is that I’ve been watching a lot of Beverly Hills 90210 (the high school years) of late, and that can’t have a positive result for anyone. Damn DVR has taken over my life.
Thank GOODness I don’t have a boyfriend because I just don’t know how I’d fit him into my busy schedule.
I’ve come up with a new life plan. It goes as follows:
1. Move to Hawaii
2. Live in small bungalow
3. Work as bartender
4. Spend all free time on beach: swimming, reading, sleeping, etc.
That’s pretty much it.
Why is it that when I start feeling melancholic, I start thinking about the beach and the ocean and space and quiet?
My friend Michelle always told me that I would go through a mini-crisis in my late twenties. That it was typical. So, I’m right on track then, I guess. Good to know.
All I know is that I’ve been watching a lot of Beverly Hills 90210 (the high school years) of late, and that can’t have a positive result for anyone. Damn DVR has taken over my life.
Thank GOODness I don’t have a boyfriend because I just don’t know how I’d fit him into my busy schedule.
January 18, 2007
Woah. WOAH.
This sums up my work situation.
Village Voice Weekly Horoscope - SCORPIO (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21):
Employees who work at the Grand Canyon are not supposed to tell visitors that the monumental gorge is over five million years old. Officials are worried that doing so might offend fundamentalist Christians who suffer from the delusion that Noah's flood created the Grand Canyon a few thousand years ago. Keep this vignette in mind during the coming week, Scorpio. Let it serve as a warning beacon. I suspect that like a non-fundamentalist tourist at the Grand Canyon, you're going to be fed a line of BS that was designed for people who can't handle the truth. Either that, or someone will withhold the facts from you out of a concern that you'd be furious to have your assumptions questioned. As an antidote, be extra devoted to learning the real story that's hidden beneath the official account.
Well, crap.
Village Voice Weekly Horoscope - SCORPIO (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21):
Employees who work at the Grand Canyon are not supposed to tell visitors that the monumental gorge is over five million years old. Officials are worried that doing so might offend fundamentalist Christians who suffer from the delusion that Noah's flood created the Grand Canyon a few thousand years ago. Keep this vignette in mind during the coming week, Scorpio. Let it serve as a warning beacon. I suspect that like a non-fundamentalist tourist at the Grand Canyon, you're going to be fed a line of BS that was designed for people who can't handle the truth. Either that, or someone will withhold the facts from you out of a concern that you'd be furious to have your assumptions questioned. As an antidote, be extra devoted to learning the real story that's hidden beneath the official account.
Well, crap.
January 17, 2007
Catwalking and head trauma.
OK.
It’s been a rough start to the new year. Really rough. New year, new you, my ass. But, I’m not going to go into it.
I would, however, like to discuss the end of 2006. I must say, it was grand.
I’ve never been a fan of new year’s eve. People (the collective “people”) just seem put way too much expectation into one night. I prefer to just hang out with my Mum, drink a lot of wine, and eat a lot of cheese. It’s not a bad way to spend a night, believe me. Of course, it’s not unlike how I spend most nights . . . but nonetheless: new year’s eve can usually suck it.
So WHY I decided to head to Vermont with 6 other women to spend new year’s weekend in a house, with one bathroom, is beyond me.
I was proven wrong. So very, very wrong. It was, in a word, fanfuckingtastic. And I think it deserves a list. A top ten, if you will.
TOP TEN REASONS TO SPEND A WEEKEND IN VERMONT WITH 6 FABULOUS WOMEN:
10. Learning once and for all that you’re not a morning person, after waking up to an incessant DING DING DING one morning (“It might help to plug in the toaster, Barbara.” —Tina) and pots clanging the next (“Barbara, you’re killing me right now. Could you just . . . read a book.” —yours truly)
9. Catwalking . . . after drinking a LOT of champagne.
8. 7 women crying while watching Fried Green Tomatoes.
7. Learning how to do your hair. With product. And a blow dryer. And a round brush. While drinking champagne.
6. Beer pong . . . with champagne flutes.
5. Being driven (in a limo no less) up a VERY icy road, with a pants-less Jenny, and Teri curled up on the floor, not sure if you’re going to die or not. (“that was enough to make me start going to church again” —Cris)
5.5. Being led up a very icy, dark hill by Kimmy and a piggy key chain (that snorts and lights the way thru little electric blue piggy nostrils).
4. Waking up in the morning to see 7 frozen Amstel bottles in the snow, near where you got in the cab to go to the bar. Because the time it would take to walk from the house’s front door to the taxi would be too long of a time to not have a beer in your hand.
3. 4 bottles of wine, 14 bottles of champagne, 3 dozen Amstels, and more at the bar . . . (“Not a single man in the house and we have enough alcohol to choke a small horse.” —Teri)
2. Sitting down to a delicious dinner, prepared by the one and only chef Tina, and fabulous conversation . . . and realizing how honored you are to be friends with every single person sitting at the table. **sniff**
1. Trying to walk across the iciest parking lot EV-ER while laughing your ass off . . . even though you end up concussing yourself (by falling and smacking your pretty little head). **I will never ever forget the image of Teri on the ground screaming “HELP ME TINA! HELP ME!” before taking Tina down OR the image of Jenny commando-ing it on the ground with Kim over her screaming “You’re going to ruin your blazer! Get up!!”**
Ladies, despite the head trauma, I had an amazing weekend. Thank you Cris, Kimmy, Jenny, Teri, Tina, and Barbara. I heart you.
Here’s hoping 2007 pulls up its skirt soon.
It’s been a rough start to the new year. Really rough. New year, new you, my ass. But, I’m not going to go into it.
I would, however, like to discuss the end of 2006. I must say, it was grand.
I’ve never been a fan of new year’s eve. People (the collective “people”) just seem put way too much expectation into one night. I prefer to just hang out with my Mum, drink a lot of wine, and eat a lot of cheese. It’s not a bad way to spend a night, believe me. Of course, it’s not unlike how I spend most nights . . . but nonetheless: new year’s eve can usually suck it.
So WHY I decided to head to Vermont with 6 other women to spend new year’s weekend in a house, with one bathroom, is beyond me.
I was proven wrong. So very, very wrong. It was, in a word, fanfuckingtastic. And I think it deserves a list. A top ten, if you will.
TOP TEN REASONS TO SPEND A WEEKEND IN VERMONT WITH 6 FABULOUS WOMEN:
10. Learning once and for all that you’re not a morning person, after waking up to an incessant DING DING DING one morning (“It might help to plug in the toaster, Barbara.” —Tina) and pots clanging the next (“Barbara, you’re killing me right now. Could you just . . . read a book.” —yours truly)
9. Catwalking . . . after drinking a LOT of champagne.
8. 7 women crying while watching Fried Green Tomatoes.
7. Learning how to do your hair. With product. And a blow dryer. And a round brush. While drinking champagne.
6. Beer pong . . . with champagne flutes.
5. Being driven (in a limo no less) up a VERY icy road, with a pants-less Jenny, and Teri curled up on the floor, not sure if you’re going to die or not. (“that was enough to make me start going to church again” —Cris)
5.5. Being led up a very icy, dark hill by Kimmy and a piggy key chain (that snorts and lights the way thru little electric blue piggy nostrils).
4. Waking up in the morning to see 7 frozen Amstel bottles in the snow, near where you got in the cab to go to the bar. Because the time it would take to walk from the house’s front door to the taxi would be too long of a time to not have a beer in your hand.
3. 4 bottles of wine, 14 bottles of champagne, 3 dozen Amstels, and more at the bar . . . (“Not a single man in the house and we have enough alcohol to choke a small horse.” —Teri)
2. Sitting down to a delicious dinner, prepared by the one and only chef Tina, and fabulous conversation . . . and realizing how honored you are to be friends with every single person sitting at the table. **sniff**
1. Trying to walk across the iciest parking lot EV-ER while laughing your ass off . . . even though you end up concussing yourself (by falling and smacking your pretty little head). **I will never ever forget the image of Teri on the ground screaming “HELP ME TINA! HELP ME!” before taking Tina down OR the image of Jenny commando-ing it on the ground with Kim over her screaming “You’re going to ruin your blazer! Get up!!”**
Ladies, despite the head trauma, I had an amazing weekend. Thank you Cris, Kimmy, Jenny, Teri, Tina, and Barbara. I heart you.
Here’s hoping 2007 pulls up its skirt soon.
January 11, 2007
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